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THE SILVER LADY.
My father possessed no estates, but so much wealth that a life of affluence seemed assured both to him, and to myself, his only son. We avoided, however, every expense; and when his economy did not at all accord with my youthful wishes, he said drily,
“Independence is more valuable in my eyes than any other possession; and to retain it, I must be careful of my property. An old proverb says, ‘It is better to be envied than to be pitied.’”
We remained of a different opinion, even to the day of his death. I fully believed the universal idea that my father was an absolute Crœsus; and I was invariably supported in this opinion by a crowd of friends, who disliked my father’s parsimony quite as much as I did. I would have willingly prolonged my stay at the University, where I led a very gay and agreeable life; but the intelligence of my father’s sudden death recalled me home. In spite of all his unwelcome economy, I had tenderly loved him; and I felt infinitely more grief at his death, than joy at the prospect of my inheritance. Consequently, I deferred from day to day looking at the papers of the deceased to ascertain the extent of my wealth.
At last, I commenced my examination; which had a very different result from what I had expected. My search soon terminated; and I found that my inheritance, so splendid in imagination, scarcely sufficed in reality to satisfy my creditors.
I had often heard that on similar occasions very dear friends are occasionally transformed into very bitter foes; but experience alone can give full force and comprehension to such a commonplace maxim. Mine, however, was now to be the lot
